In Realms of Waking
by strawberriez8800
Summary: Thomas/Jimmy – In which Thomas and Jimmy start having erotic dreams about one another – without knowing they are actually sharing them.
1. Chapter 1

_Note: This will be a total smut-fest of a fic, I can tell you that :) Now, here goes chapter one!_

* * *

The scene flared to life before his eyes.

"There you are." It was the voice that graced Jimmy's reveries on sporadic nights after the lights went off, the voice that haunted him in waking as well as dreaming. Only, in dreams it held a lethal seduction that lured him into prohibited lands – ones that he didn't dare visit in times of consciousness. "You're late."

Thomas gazed at him from a distance, translucent eyes devoured in black. The length of his body was sprawled across a crimson seat that looked rather familiar – disturbingly so – and Jimmy realized, with a distant jolt – that they were once again in the library of Downton Abbey.

_Of all places…_

Jimmy glanced around, a vain attempt to discern the particulars of the vicinity. The backdrop faded away around him – just a little, enough to raise a staggering contrast when his gaze returned to Thomas.

_Come, _those grey eyes seemed to say.

His feet drove him onward, footsteps silenced by the rug that stretched on beyond the depths of his perception. He slowed to a halt before Thomas, eyes drinking in his pale, nude body in all its startling glory.

A breath caught in his chest, heart racing beneath the cage of his ribs – a tribute to the elegance that lay before him. A lump rose in his throat – and he swallowed audibly, feeling his cock stir with the beginnings of wanton need.

In a series of languid movements, Thomas climbed to his feet. In his full height the man towered over Jimmy – a looming shadow that led a path down the rabbit hole.

"Kiss me."

It was a command, not a supplication; it was whisper-soft in its enticement – yet potent, jarring.

Jimmy didn't need telling twice; he leaned up and pressed his mouth against Thomas's – warm meeting cool. The first kiss never failed to render Jimmy to a pause, a delay in time as he reveled in the utter _softness _of the flesh. His hand slithered up Thomas's chest, fingers sifting through dark hair – and he splayed his palm flat upon his breast, feeling the solid beat of Thomas's heart. The lucidity of it sent Jimmy's blood boiling – and he pressed closer, lips parting for Thomas's warm, moist tongue.

"Ah…" Jimmy moaned, his free hand curling around the base of Thomas's skull. It thrummed beneath his touch with every rush of blood – and his grip tightened, bringing the man down upon him. "Thomas…"

Thomas's fingers worked with Jimmy's buttons – and when the last of it came undone, Jimmy shrugged off his waist coat. Another piece of clothing revealed itself – and Jimmy felt a spur of frustration at the layers he was clad in. As if on cue, in a blink he found himself free of the confines of his uniform – and he paused in wonder; the freedom of fabricated realms had never ceased to amaze him.

He angled his face away, short of breath, taking the chance to regain oxygen. Thomas lowered him down onto the seat gently, as though he was handling a china doll - and the cushion dipped beneath their weight. Jimmy's head rested against the arm of the couch – and Thomas hovered above him, black hair falling into grey eyes, shades of monochrome in harmony. His lips were red and swollen with the onslaught of kisses; the vivid colour lay stark against his ivory skin – and a thought flashed in Jimmy's mind: lips red as blood, skin white as snow, hair black as ebony –

_Snow White, the fairest of us all_.

Thomas chuckled, a husky resonance in his throat. "I don't look like Snow White." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Jimmy's neck, nimble lips brushing against sweat-stained skin.

"I never said you did." Jimmy's voice quivered, a hitch in the note as he fought for composure. "You're more like the evil witch who poisoned her with the apple."

The man hummed in appreciation, tongue mapping a trail along Jimmy's collarbone. "And a sweet poison it is." Long fingers caressed along Jimmy's erection – and he gasped ever so lightly. The instinct to keep the moans at bay gnawed away within him, but he dismissed it with a kiss upon Thomas's lips; it was _his _dream – and in his dream he was King.

Thomas leaned up, his mouth hovering by Jimmy's ear. "You're beautiful, Jimmy Kent." A shiver rolled along Jimmy's spine – silent in its lust, visceral in its instinct. "Sometimes I wonder if you're even real."

Jimmy swallowed down a shaky laugh; even in fantasy, Thomas was a soppy sort.

With the grace of a cat, Thomas kissed a line down his chest, lips ghosting just above the heat of his skin, touching – but barely. Goose-bumps rose along Jimmy's arms as he drew in a sharp breath, mustering all the willpower in the world not to come right there. Even in the privacy of his own mind, the humiliation of his lack of control was so _thick _it felt like physical pain – prickling from his head to toe, simmering within his bones. Thomas's mouth was a mere inch away – so bloody close yet there was still so much _space _–

Thomas pursed his lips and blew at the tip, mouth quirking up as Jimmy's fingers rolled into fists. The gust of air tickled like an intangible feather – and it was all Jimmy could do to keep from thrusting forward. "Just get _on _with it already." He spat the words through gritted teeth, voice twisted into a guttural mess.

"Be patient." The man smirked – slow and sly and smug. "And you'll be rewarded."

Jimmy glared at him, a soundless demand for more. _I'm waiting, _he wanted to say – but his breath was caught in his throat, like a train stopped in its tracks.

The grin stretched wider, like the Cheshire Cat who had found himself an abundance of cream and milk – and Thomas descended, enveloping Jimmy in a chasm of wet heat –

His eyes fluttered open at the rapping on his door, sight greeted by the bland ceiling that loomed above him.

"Six o'clock!" Somebody called from the other side – one of the hall-boys, most likely - before bounding down the corridor to wake the rest of the male staff.

Covered in a sheen of perspiration, Jimmy kicked off the blanket, sending it tumbling over the edge of the cot. His erection formed a rather prominent tent in his shorts – and he flushed deeper; _thank God I don't share a room, _he thought as he reached down to curl a hand around his cock. Eyes slipped shut, sweat-slick fingers pumped and worked away in a steady rhythm until the final release – and he exhaled into the cool morning air, a shudder rippling through his body.

His hammering pulse had faded to a dull throbbing by the time he climbed out of bed – a distant token of his twisted recollections. They had become more and more vivid as the weeks went by, and more and more _adventurous_, along with the increased rate of occurrence.

Once upon a time, it had begun with a few strokes here and there – hesitant kisses, tentative touches. Somewhere along the way, a mutual agreement had been initiated – either by Jimmy himself, or by the Thomas conjured by his own subconscious. It made no matter, for it had marked the beginning of dreams filled with harsh moans and ragged gasps, teeth marks and fingernail-tracks.

The first time it had happened, Jimmy had been stunned awake by the sheer _pleasure _of it all – if such a thing was even possible. The feeling of utter terror and arousal that had gripped him in the morning was seared into his brain – haunting, relentless, and most of all - _guilty_. Jimmy had not been able to meet Thomas in the eye for almost one week after that. He had made all attempts to put a stop to this inner debacle; he'd chat up Ivy more frequently – and on one occasion he'd even tried kissing her – but his efforts had been futile, though seeing Alfred all riled up had been rather amusing.

There had been a time in which the visions had ceased for a while. Jimmy remembered the relief and _disappointment_ that had washed over him – the latter receiving naught but horror from the better half of his conscience. He hadn't been left alone for long, however, for they had returned in _torrents_, sending him reeling with desires better left unheeded. As nights went by, it had grown progressively _difficult _to keep the lust at bay, like trying to contain a hurricane with a butterfly net. And so he had relented, falling into the welcoming arms of the phantom of Thomas Barrow – and together, they had burned white hot into oblivion.

The only comfort Jimmy could find was that they were simply dreams; the _real _Thomas was unaware of their existence, and so was everyone else for that matter. It was Jimmy's secret – his alone. He drew solace from that, knowing the imaginings were eternally chained to his mind, away from prying souls.

-x-

The servants' hall was barely half-filled when Jimmy went down for breakfast. Plates of pancakes and toast lined up along the dining table, accompanied by several jars of fruit jam. Jimmy suppressed a grimace at the memory that resurfaced – and took a seat, gaze darting around the vicinity. Thomas was nowhere to be found – an unusual occurrence, for the under-butler was generally impeccable with his timing. Jimmy shrugged, and reached for a piece of toast.

_"Jimmy…ah –" The back of Thomas's skull collided against the dining table, pinned down by the shoulders as Jimmy loomed over him. Elbows propped up on either side of the man, Jimmy leaned down and captured his mouth, the abstract urgency sending adrenaline through his veins. "The wood is rather – hnf – uncomfortable." Thomas's voice was ragged, in a way that Jimmy had never heard in waking._

_"Are you honestly complaining?" Jimmy murmured with a leer, a predator with its prey. Splashes of red bloomed on Thomas's cheeks, black hair lay disheveled. "You've got to do better than that to convince me."_

_A choked breath, and then - "Just stop talking." _

_Lips met, teeth clashed, tongues fought – and there had never been anything better._

"You going to get that?" Thomas asked lightly, taking a seat across from him.

Jimmy blinked once, twice – and snatched the slice of toast from the platter in such haste that he almost knocked over a jug of tea. He flashed a quick smile at Thomas, ignoring the heat on his cheeks. "Morning, Mr Barrow." Noting the smile on the man's face, he added: "You seem quite the merry one today."

Thomas was sipping on a cup of tea when Jimmy had made the comment - and he spluttered ever so slightly. "Do I now?"

Baxter swept in quietly and occupied the chair beside Thomas. He appeared almost relieved at her interruption – then again it was difficult to tell with him; he had a poker face that was too opaque for Jimmy's liking – but there _had _been a few times he had witnessed a crack or two in the veneer. Jimmy had prided himself in his ability to discern Thomas – albeit just a little – at the time, but it was a short-lived triumph, for the fissures had been stitched back whole before there was a chance for further inspection.

The day had proceeded smoothly thus far – or as smoothly as it could go anyhow, what with the recollections of his dreams ambushing him in random intervals. Honestly, Jimmy would not have minded asmuch – if it weren't for the dangerous clarityof these…_memories_ that occasionally threatened his poise. No, perhaps 'memory' was an incorrect term; it implied the actual _passing _of those events – which was the furthest from the truth, of course. The more suitable description would be…conceptual-retention-of-psychological-wandering s.

Yes, that was better.

Later Jimmy found himself in the library, serving afternoon tea along with Alfred. A few guests were present – company of Mr Napier – and Jimmy did his best to pay no attention to the traitorous sofa. Lady Rose and Lady Edith were seated on said couch, engaged in an offhand conversation. Jimmy could see Thomas hovering in the edge of his vision, a streak of darkness against the backdrop of wooden shelves.

On cue, Jimmy stepped towards Lady Rose to refill her cup. She cast him a smile, eyes twinkling with seemingly eternal delight. He returned it with a polite nod, lowering the tray for her to place the cup.

_Long fingers raked down the length of Jimmy's hip, trails of pink surfacing in their wake. His lids fluttered haphazardly, eyes rolling back as Thomas placed a kiss on his inner thigh. It was wet, very wet; Thomas's lips glistened as he smirked up at Jimmy. "Hello there."_

_"Please," Jimmy said, doing his best to keep from sounding _too _pathetic. It was quite impossible, with those maddening taunts and tantalizing kisses. "Mr Barrow, be nice…" He bit back a hiss as Thomas's tongue flicked out and brushed the tip of his leaking cock - then it was gone._

_It was nowhere _close _to enough._

"Thank you, James."

Jimmy smiled at her and retreated a few paces behind, standing by until there was a further need of him. There was talk of a surprise party coming up – something special for Lord Grantham's upcoming birthday, it seemed. Lady Rose looked especially keen on it, which Jimmy took as a sign that she was the initiator.

"What _is _that stain?" Lady Edith suddenly said, squinting down at the red cushion.

The tray slipped in Jimmy's hand and tumbled south. A yelp shot past his lips – and he cringed back as hot liquid splashed from the mouth of the teapot. The chinaware hit the carpet and rolled to a quick stop, the padded surface absorbing the impact. There was a cry of surprise, somewhere – but Jimmy was preoccupied with picking up the crockery. The liquid spread across the carpet in a growing dark pool, sinking into its fibers.

Thomas was beside him at once, crouched down as he helped put them back in order. "You alright?" His hand brushed Jimmy's elbow, as though trying to steady him – and Jimmy recoiled a little.

"I'm sorry, Mr Barrow – my hand just slipped and I couldn't –" He groped fruitlessly for words; his mind was on the other side of the spectrum, demanding answers with questions he could never ask out loud.

What kind of stain was it? How did it get there? It _couldn't_ have been from – it was _impossible -_

There was no time to ponder, for the ladies were gaping at him as though watching a circus travesty. Thomas offered to help with the tray, but in the heat of his humiliation Jimmy snapped at him. Guilt immediately followed his impulsive outburst – and he shrugged it off momentarily; there would be time to make amends later.

As he stood back up, the pot rattled slightly upon the quivering platform. With a hasty apology he made a quick exit _without _making a clot of himself, the heavy stares of onlookers boring into his back – Thomas's the heaviest of all.


	2. Chapter 2

"What _is _that stain?"

Before Thomas could contemplate the implication of Lady Edith's words, a crash of chinaware snatched his attention like the whipping of a cane.

In a blink, Jimmy was on his knees scrambling to reassemble the porcelain articles. Silence dawned upon the room as ladies and gentlemen alike turned to stare, a suffocating veil that would do nothing but blow the situation out of proportion. Thomas held back the compulsion to snap at them to return to their empty-headed conversations – and went to Jimmy's side instead.

"You alright?" He placed the last of the crockery back on the tray, reaching out to stabilize Jimmy, who seemed about to collapse on the spot. The fact that Jimmy flinched away barely registered – for Thomas was taken aback by the blatant fear on his face.

Jimmy muttered a clumsy apology, words tumbling out of his mouth like an overturned bottle of pills. Thomas straightened when Jimmy recollected himself enough to get back on his feet. He repaid Thomas's offer to take the tray with a curt rejection – and Thomas scowled a little, stepping back. He didn't miss the glance that Jimmy cast towards the spot where Lady Edith was seated, feeling an ugly trepidation growing within him. With a final apology, Jimmy walked out of the library with all the dignity one could muster after such a debacle.

Lady Grantham ushered the guests to the drawing room while the housemaids cleaned up the mess, the apparent stain on the sofa long forgotten by then. He glanced around the room, noting Alfred in the corner with a smugness in his expression that induced an eye-roll from Thomas.

"Barrow?"

Thomas paused at the sound of Lady Rose's voice. "Yes, my lady?"

There was a crease between her brows, marring her dainty features with a frown. "Is James alright? He appeared somewhat…out of sorts back there."

_As one normally would in the event of an embarrassment, _he itched to say, yet there was an uncomfortable thorn, somewhere – that suggested Jimmy might've been struggling with more than he let on. "I'm sure he is, my lady. Nothing more than an accident, that is all."

Lady Rose smiled politely. "Alright, then." She appeared about to leave, but stopped to add: "Do ensure you look out for him, Barrow."

"Of course, my lady."

With that, she joined the others and left for the drawing room. Thomas watched her departure with a confused grimace at her interest in Jimmy. Perhaps there was a budding friendship here that had eluded Thomas, or God forbid – a _something_-more-than-friendship that he'd overlooked all along. Thomas dismissed the latter notion instantly; Jimmy was surely smarter than that.

_Something you wish you'd been, all those years ago._

When the library was deserted except for the cleaning maids, Thomas ventured to the couch, surveying the mark discreetly in hopes to avoid inconvenient questions.

_Jimmy bucked up against the seat, erection hitting the back of Thomas's throat. Kneeling against the couch, Thomas shifted and deepened the contact, feeling the length climb further down. When his eyes slid open Thomas was graced by the view of Jimmy laying nude before him, chest heaving in thin breaths. Jimmy's head was tipped back, the column of his neck naked to the world – a trophy of desires that ran thicker than blood. Thomas paused, eyes tracing every curve of muscle, every ridge of bone – a work of art laid bare for his taking._

_"Oh God, this – Mr Barrow –" His fingers squeezed in the midst Thomas's hair, yanking on the locks painfully. Thomas let a hand cup the base of Jimmy's cock, the other curling around his own as he pumped. Two sets of pulse hammered away in his throat – one from Jimmy's erection, the other from himself – fused into one like they had never been apart -_

_"I think – I – Thomas –"_

_Thomas began to move away, but the warning had been late – for Jimmy came in a long, gratifying spurt. The warm, sticky liquid pooled in Thomas's mouth, dripping down his throat with a taste akin to Jimmy – and Jimmy alone. Even in dreaming the tang bloomed richly on Thomas's tongue, imprinted into his subconscious, seeping into his waking days._

_He could feel the erection leaving Jimmy's cock as it softened, still in the confines of Thomas's mouth – and he withdrew, slowly, dragging the motion into one long sweep. His tongue circled around the shaft of Jimmy's cock, glazing it in his own come. By the time Thomas pulled free, the length was slick and coated with translucent fluid that dripped in a slow, deliberate trickle._

_Thomas marveled at the sight._

_It was _filthy – _deliciously so._

Thomas could count – on the fingers on one hand, perhaps two – the number of times he had _truly _been flabbergasted.

This was one of them.

_No, this can't be._

Thomas stood up so quickly that his head spun for a moment, eyes honing in on the incriminating stain.

_This _can't _be._

-x-

By the evening, Thomas had reached the conclusion that the blemish was a result of spilled liquor.

It was a simple deduction, really – one that should've been clear as day the moment he set eyes on it. There had been a small mishap involving some beverage that had been overlooked until now. There was no other plausible explanation for it – none at all; the possibility of it being…_that _was too ludicrous to even think about. In any case, it was irrelevant now as Thomas had ordered the maids to change the linings. Yet a restless inkling had settled home, suspended overhead like an imminent storm.

The house was buzzing with the gossip of Jimmy's blunder, with glances and whispers directed at Jimmy like darts flying at a naked target. They annoyed Thomas to no end, yet the footman seemed too preoccupied with something else to retaliate – which was rather odd as Thomas imagined it would be difficult for Jimmy to withhold his snarky, defensive comebacks – unless there was something far more at stake.

Seeing Jimmy in such a distraught state was no help, as it did nothing but add to the pile of questions amassing in Thomas's mind like paperweights on feathers. The urge to pelt Jimmy with a flood of questions sizzled through him, but as usual Thomas resisted; years of experience had gained him nothing if not the refinement of his skills at battling temptation. Thomas did his best to get past it, but it was no good – for the thought festered like an untreated infection.

Thomas lit a cigarette and took a long drag, indulging in the ephemeral distraction as warm smoke soaked his lungs.

"Want one?" Thomas pushed the half-full carton towards Jimmy, lighter balanced on top. "Hello, you there?"

Jimmy blinked and met Thomas's eyes across the table, eyes half-dazed and unfocused. The silver goblet was stationary in his hand, lost in his musing. "Oh, no – I'm quite alright, Mr Barrow…"

"You mustn't dwell on it too much, James," Baxter said, a seat away from Thomas as she looked up from the dress she was mending. "Everybody makes mistakes from time to time."

"Not ones like _that_," Alfred said, nose turning up. "It was quite the charade – you should've seen –"

"Thank you for your contribution, Alfred." Thomas exhaled slowly, a stream of grey mist dispelling into the air. "I seem to recall you have a job to finish." He let his eyes skim over the row of silverware on the table, before fixing Alfred a flat stare. The footman said no more, and with a begrudging scowl he went back to work.

Later that night when dinner came to an end, Jimmy wasted no time in making his retreat. Thomas had barely gotten a word with him before he bounded up the stairs, footsteps heavy and rushed. Thomas frowned, his stomach roiling a little from Jimmy's blatant distress.

It was rather frustrating, the way Thomas was found himself always _caring _so much where Jimmy was concerned. The state of indifference that he held for everybody else was always – without fail – replaced by this frustrating empathywhenever Jimmy crossed his mind. It was what had gotten him in that mess at the fair, and up till now he was _still _stranded in this pit that seemed to get deeper as time wore by.

Perhaps it was what love did to people.

What a bright prospect.

"Seems to me he's in need of someone to talk to," Baxter said to Thomas, packing up the sewing machine. "James, I mean."

"What's it to you?" Thomas said. "Jimmy's a grown man. He can survive an episode of humiliation without me holding his hand."

Baxter stared at him. "I never said you should be the one to talk to him."

Thomas clenched his jaw.

_Stupid, stupid –_

Silence ensued, before she added: "Unless there's something…?" The deliberation in her voice was too – well – _deliberate _for Thomas's liking.

"Not much I can do, I'm afraid." Thomas kept his tone neutral, quenching his cigarette. "Well I'm turning in. Goodnight."

The corridor that led to the men's bedrooms was dim - except for the light that streamed from the slit beneath Jimmy's door. Thomas flipped on the lights before anyone could trip on some hidden obstacle and headed for his own room, keeping his steps quiet in hopes to avoid Jimmy's notice. He lingered by Jimmy's door for a moment, hand raised to knock, but with a sigh he turned away.

In his room, all was dark except for the glow of the moon that filtered through the windows. He stripped off his livery and pulled his cotton shirt over his head, tossing it on the futon. With the lamp switched on he reached for his dressing table –

Thomas stopped short when a discolouration on his back - reflected off the mirror – caught his eye. He stepped closer to the mirror and twisted around for a better look; there was patch of bruise on his lower back, littered in a mass of purple and blue. He prodded at it with a finger, a frown surfacing when a dull ache emanated from the site.

_"No one's here," Jimmy breathed into Thomas's ear, fingers clutching him by the lapels. "There's no cause to worry –"_

_"I'm not worried." Thomas sealed his mouth with a clumsy, damp kiss. His fingers groped fruitlessly with Jimmy's buttons, the need to touch his bare skin clawing away at him, persistent and fervent. "Christ, your _clothes –_"_

_Jimmy brushed his hands off and undressed himself in a flurry of quick gestures, the clothes pooling at their feet in a heap. With a hoarse grunt he shoved Thomas back against the shelf, harsh with desperation as though it was their last moment together. Thomas's back collided with a protruding ledge and he winced, an acute twinge shooting up his spine. "Slow down, there."_

_The younger man took no heed and closed in on Thomas, teeth dragging along the line of his shoulder. A too-loud moan bubbled into the open and Thomas wasn't sure who it was from – but it didn't matter, because in less than a second they were stark naked and grinding in the dark like dirty hellions -_

Thomas inhaled sharply when the realization hit him like a ton of cement.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, feeling his heart drop all the way to his feet.

It was impossible – _should _be impossible, but –

"Bloody hell," he said again.

-x-

"There - do you feel the slight increase in the resistance?"

A breath, a heartbeat and then – "I think so," Jimmy said, hand on the key that was slotted into the aperture of the grandfather clock.

Thomas removed his fingers from Jimmy's hand and slid to his shoulders. "That's what you're watching for." He pressed his lips to the side of Jimmy's neck, a hum low in his throat. "Never go past the point where the clock is comfortable." His tongue darted out and ran along the shell of Jimmy's ear. The younger man shivered in his arms, leaning into the touch.

"Are we to role-play erotic clock-winding now?" Jimmy said, voice shaking as Thomas nibbled on his earlobe.

"If you'd like." Thomas pull the waistcoat from Jimmy's shoulders and let it fall away. The man was unbuttoned underneath – and Thomas smirked, sliding the sleeve on Jimmy's arm to his elbow. A hand roamed along Jimmy's arm, closing around his hand. The key slipped from Jimmy's grip and plummeted towards the floor, the descent silent yet vivid in the back of Thomas's mind. Holding Jimmy's wrist in a light touch, Thomas sealed a gentle kiss upon the thin layer skin – the prelude of a marking to be forever seared into his fantasies. "We can do anything you want, Jimmy." He licked the inside of his wrist, earning a quiet sigh from Jimmy.

"I want…I –" Jimmy gasped softly when Thomas began to suck on the skin, the noise wet and loud, echoing off the walls of his dream like a drumbeat of sweet nothings. Thomas leaned closer, until the line of Jimmy's back was pressing completely against his chest. He could feel Jimmy's pulse flutter beneath his lips, and he sucked harder, teeth pulling against the delicate skin.

Thomas pulled free to look up at Jimmy, the loss of contact punctuated with a suctioned pop. "You're mine…" He closed his lips upon the area once again, the skin turning pink beneath. "Mine." Another kiss, another nibble. "Let the world see that you are."

Jimmy moaned, head leaning back against Thomas's shoulder. "Mr Barrow…" A shuddering breath escaped his lips – and Thomas realized that Jimmy was getting himself off with his other hand. The thought made his semi-erect cock harden in a blink - _Christ_. "Oh –"

Upon finishing his handiwork, he withdrew slightly, admiring the red, glistening spot on Jimmy's wrist. He rolled his hips forward, erection grinding against the slit of Jimmy's arse. "You're perfect, you know that?" Thomas said, hand on Jimmy's hip as he surged forward, unable to contain the desire surging through his veins. They collided against the clock, which wobbled precariously from the impact – and Thomas pinned him against it, breaths coming too quick, too hot as he buried his nose in Jimmy's neck. "Let me," Thomas said, hand closing around Jimmy's cock. "Tell me what you want." He coated the length with Jimmy's pre-come, adding some saliva when there wasn't enough. "Tell me what you want, Jimmy." Thomas was pumping now, steady at just the right rhythm, just the way Jimmy like it – and he knew that from the half-choked gasps from Jimmy as the man writhed in Thomas's embrace.

Jimmy slid his hips against Thomas's crotch, thighs rubbing together. "I want – ah, fuck – I want you, oh _God _–" Jimmy's voice was cut off when Thomas bit down on his neck to stifle his moans. His own erection was almost painful against the constraint of his pants now; he would give anything,_everything _to be inside Jimmy right now –

It was still dark when Thomas awoke. He sat upright, lungs heaving in short bursts as his heart thundered in his ears. With eyes shut tight Thomas buried his face in his hands, willing his pulse to slow and his erection to fade. The dream flashed in his mind, blinding and fierce in a torrent of sensory overload – and Thomas's mind flitted to the bruise on his back –

_Could it…_

_His wrist – oh Jesus Christ -_

He leapt out of bed and staggered to his door, almost tripping over his chair in his haste. There was a distant scream in his mind, somewhere, saying that he was _insane _and that it could never possibly be true. Thomas was probably crazy – he _hoped _he was crazy because it was the only way he could deal with this madness – but he _had _to check, _had _to make sure that everything was just a bloody _dream _like it was supposed to be –

Thomas opened his door and peered into corridor. The light in Jimmy's room was on – and Thomas's heart stopped for a fraction of a second.

_Oh, God._

It felt as though he was in yet another dream when he paced towards Jimmy's door, heart pounding in his throat as he tried to control the tremor that was currently eradicating his body. This was possibly the most foolish thing he had ever done in his life – and that was saying something, as much as he hated to admit it – but the curiosity was too strong; it was now or never.

He knocked once. "Jimmy?" When there was no answer, he tried again once more. "Are you up?" It was a stupid question. Of course he was up; his bloody lights were on – but Thomas had to try.

There was a beat of silence, and then -

_"Leave me alone!"_


End file.
